Whilst driving around, we notice an abundance of vehicles bearing the Cruise America logo. They are everywhere, swarming, overbearing in their sheer numbers. As we pass Cruise America after Cruise America, I begin to think of them not as individual vehicles each containing unique human beings, but as a homogeneous hivemind, a collective group of mindless drones all tasked to ACCOMPLISH TOURISM. At first, "tourism" and "unthinking mob" seem incompatible to me. Then, I actually think about a group of tourists.
If a fleet of Cruise Americas coagulates into an attack, I will call it a "drone strike". It is much easier to dehumanize and label groups than individuals. In this case, the Cruise Americas have not been condemned by their action or their intent; merely their quantity. If a Cruise America makes some kind of driving error, it seems more egregious than a non-Cruise America error. Human nature and tribalism at work.
Earlier, while pulling into our campsite, The Chemist is "pretty sure" he ran over a slip of paper. We think the paper is some random litter the wind carried to us. This is not true.
When we exit the van and try to start cooking dinner, we discover our grill is missing. It was sitting on the picnic table when we left, and it's not there anymore. We check the bear-proof boxes (explicably called "bearboxes") scattered around the campsite, which are apparently difficult to open even by the dexterity of the human hand, check the van, tent. Nothing. We conclude the grill has been stolen.
To make matters worse, one of us goes to use the restroom and find that someone has pooped on the floor. It smells terrible -- Even now, I can softly close my eyes and recollect the odor. Doesn't look too bad though, if I'm being dishonest.
A park ranger approaches our campsite. She informs us we left our grill, a bear-attracting machine, out in the open. So, she took the initiative to stow it in a bearbox. It is the closest bearbox we didn't check. This is basic camping stuff, you guys. You don't leave bear-attracting stuff out in the open, ever, for any reason. I mean, come on, it's even in the little leaflet we gave you when you drove in on Day 1. How did you not put your grill away? You morons. This is what the ranger says, only in much nicer terms. She concludes by telling us to enjoy the animals right in our backyard.
To make matters worse, one of us goes to use the restroom and find that someone has pooped on the floor. It smells terrible -- Even now, I can softly close my eyes and recollect the odor. Doesn't look too bad though, if I'm being dishonest.
A park ranger approaches our campsite. She informs us we left our grill, a bear-attracting machine, out in the open. So, she took the initiative to stow it in a bearbox. It is the closest bearbox we didn't check. This is basic camping stuff, you guys. You don't leave bear-attracting stuff out in the open, ever, for any reason. I mean, come on, it's even in the little leaflet we gave you when you drove in on Day 1. How did you not put your grill away? You morons. This is what the ranger says, only in much nicer terms. She concludes by telling us to enjoy the animals right in our backyard.
We hang our heads. It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were supposed to be smart, self-aware, responsible campers. Instead, we endangered the campsite and forced the park ranger to waste her valuable time giving us a talkin'-to, when she could have been doing other things, such as conserving, or protecting, or using the restroom. Literally anything would have been more useful, if we had only remembered to put our grill away. But our laxity has cost her precious minutes of her time alive on this green Earth, and as death inexorably approaches her, we will know we joined hands with the Grim Reaper, and sent her into His cold embrace that much faster.
She did her job and defended the campsite against hungry bears. We did not do our job and made entering the campsite more appealing to those same bears.
She did her job and defended the campsite against hungry bears. We did not do our job and made entering the campsite more appealing to those same bears.
As it turns out, the piece of paper The Chemist saw earlier was a park ranger note telling us not to leave grills out in the open. Apparently she left the note without securing it (e.g. by putting a rock on it), so it blew away at the first gust of wind. Oops.
Throughout dinner, we construct various hypothetical scenarios. In one scenario, the park ranger comes up to our tent and starts scattering bear bait around it, then complains, "Ugh, you can't keep letting me do this, you guys. Bear are attracted to bear bait left out in the open." In another scenario, she hides away all our stuff in a bearbox, going what is known as "a little too far." In another, she destroys our grill and goes off to hide in a bearbox herself, then jumpscares us when we try to find our grill. In another, she seals us all in bearboxes permanently, going what is known as "way too far." In another, she puts on a bear costume and paws our tent in the middle of the night, making bear noises all the while, to make good and sure we learned our lesson. In another, she takes off her human costume to reveal that she was actually Three Ninety Nine, a bear, the whole time.
Eventually, none of these scenarios came true, and none of them will ever happen. They were merely distractions to offset the reality of our own blunder. Some men are born mediocre. Some achieve mediocrity. Some have mediocrity thrust upon them.
We go to bed early that night, which The Recycler says makes him feel like a "scrub camper", because most of the other campers are still awake. Others think it's wrong to deny their upper eyelids from joining their lower eyelids in sweet embrace. Others win out in the end.
Next time: A Bible study and the Grand Tetons.
Part 9
Eventually, none of these scenarios came true, and none of them will ever happen. They were merely distractions to offset the reality of our own blunder. Some men are born mediocre. Some achieve mediocrity. Some have mediocrity thrust upon them.
We go to bed early that night, which The Recycler says makes him feel like a "scrub camper", because most of the other campers are still awake. Others think it's wrong to deny their upper eyelids from joining their lower eyelids in sweet embrace. Others win out in the end.
Next time: A Bible study and the Grand Tetons.
Part 9
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